Free Edge of Tomorrow by Wolf Wootan

believed satellite communications was
the answer—satellites under his control.
    In late 1993, he had four satellites in
orbit, and the conversion to that form of communication was
underway. Lincoln Communications was born.
    • • •
    Lili returned with two beautifully garnished
Bloody Marys. Hatch took a sip of his and popped a Spanish olive in
his mouth, then said, “Umm! Excellent, Lili! You have the
touch!”
    “Hot enough?” she smiled, a wicked glint in
her eye.
    “Yes, you are! Oh, you mean …” he laughed as
he ogled her lithe body. “The Bloody Mary is just right, too!”
    He lit another cigarette and exhaled slowly.
Lili put her left leg up on his knee and he absently ran his hand
up and down her long, smooth leg.
    • • •
    The crumbling of the Soviet Union was
heralded as the end of the cold war. That may have been true
semantically, but the emerging conflicts that replaced it were an
even greater challenge to the world’s intelligence organizations:
the global economic and technology wars. The era of the “digital
spy” had arrived, and Hatch’s companies were better prepared to
fight this type of war than anyone else. As his business volume
grew, so did his capabilities. More communication/spy satellites
were launched, and data gathering and processing offices were added
worldwide. No intelligence organization could match Triple Eye’s
ability to gather, filter, and analyze data. His main clients, of
course, were the intelligence arms of the U.S., but all NATO
countries were allowed to buy limited functions from Triple
Eye.
    The assassin’s target had also changed.
Killing an enemy agent was no longer as effective as killing the
enemy’s ability to access, process, and analyze data. Namely, his
computer and communication systems. The new assassin’s expertise on
the shooting range was less important than his knowledge of the
intricacies of digital devices and what made them tick—or more
importantly, not tick.
    • • •
    Lili wiggled her toes as Hatch’s hand rubbed
the inside of her thigh and bumped against her crotch. She made a
noise that sounded like a cat purring.
    “That feels scrumptious!” she murmured. “Why
don’t we take this inside?”
    “We have time before you have to leave.”
    “Are you saying you don’t want
me right now ?!” she exclaimed
with a wicked smile.
    “You talked me into it,” he laughed as he
followed her into the bedroom. Her bikini bra hit the floor at the
door, and the bottoms a step later. She stretched out on the bed
again and he joined her, taking one of her pert nipples into his
mouth.
     

Chapter 8
     
    The White House, Washington D.C.
    Monday, January 29, 2001
    9:00 A.M.
     
    Mr. West was ushered into the Oval Office by
a Secret Service agent, who then left and closed the door behind
him. The new President stood up from his desk and offered his
hand.
    “How do you do, Mr. West?” said the
President.
    “I am well, Mr. President. I appreciate you
seeing me, what with your very busy schedule,” replied Mr.
West.
    “Well, the Deputy Director of Intelligence of
the CIA insisted on it. He says you have something of great
importance to discuss with me,” he said in his cheery, political
voice. He was convinced that this was a waste of time, but he did
not want to offend the DDI. He was new at this job, after all.
    “Before we start, Mr. President, if you will
allow me,” stated Mr. West. He opened his briefcase and took out a
small device with a short antenna on it. He turned on a switch and
began walking around the Oval Office, watching a small display.
    “If you are sweeping for bugs, Mr. West, you
are wasting your time. The Secret Service does that every morning,”
scoffed the President.
    “I know, Mr. President, but not with an
instrument like this. I can tell, for example, that there are nine
telephone lines terminating in this office. There are six here on
your desk phone, and one to the hot phone, so there must be two
more